


Favourite Times

by flyingfanatic



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, Drabbles, F/F, Smut, sin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 12:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6284935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingfanatic/pseuds/flyingfanatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of sometimes smutty, sometimes fluffy little one-shots. All taken from paragraphs starting with "One of [x] favourite times..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Evening

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at flyingfanaticfics.

One of Clarke's favourite times is just before they fall asleep, wrapped up in each other. She never tires of tracing the outlines of Lexa's tattoos, or listening to her sleepy mumbled protests that Clarke has too much energy at night. Some nights, she rests her chin on Lexa's shoulder and tells her random little thoughts she's had during the day. Often these thoughts make Lexa laugh, a soft breathy almost-giggle that she only makes when they are alone. 

//

Clarke is just starting to drift off to sleep when Lexa begins to fidget. At first she moves with exaggerated slowness, desperately trying not to disturb Clarke. One leg pushes the blanket aside so Lexa can get a foot out in to the open air. Then she pushes one corner at the top down, and stills for a while in the relief of cool air on her back. Clarke manages to relax again sinking down in to the pillows.

Then a chill cause Lexa to yank her foot back in again, waking Clarke up with a groan. Lexa freezes where she is until Clarke has rolled back over and seems to have come back to sleep. Tucking in one long leg more gently . Lexa goes to pull the sheets back over her shoulder but Clarke has pulled them with her when she rolled. There’s no way to get warm enough to sleep without waking her again.

Lexa tries curling up to stay warm enough to sleep, but it’s no good. Tentatively at first she starts burrowing against Clarke, hoping to gain her body warmth. Unfortunately her feet are so cold at this point that Clarke jerks up.

“Dammit!”

Lexa pulls back a little and protests, “You stole all the furs. I was cold.”

The abashed look on Lexa’s face almost makes Clarke burst out laughing. Instead, she repositions the furs to cover Lexa as she drapes an arm around her. Nose to nose, she draws Lexa in close.

“How’s this?”

Lexa grins widely and wriggles her body closer. “Acceptable.”

With contented little sighs Lexa runs her hand around over Clarke’s waist and round to rest in the small of her back. She places little fluttering kisses down Clarke’s neck until she reaches her chest, nuzzling happily between her breasts. She had just closed her eyes when Clarke flips them over and starts biting her neck hungrily.

Lexa gasps in surprise and immediately arches her neck back, eyes closing in pleasure. Clarke grabs her hands roughly and brings them to her chest, squeezing harshly until Lexa begins to move her fingers of her own accord. A loud moan escapes from Lexa when Clarke’s bites turn harsh, spurred on by Lexa’s fingers rolling and gently tugging. It has never seemed unusual to her that she should want Clarke so badly, or that the merest glance or touch could send her reeling. Everything about Clarke, from her fierce loyalty to her unwavering fight, from her open face to the soft roundness Lexa’s hands love to hold, seems perfect to her. The fact that she can pull the same reaction from Clarke seems like a dream. A wish come true.

Never has she felt quite so complete as with Clarke’s fingers inside her and Clarke moving desperately on top of her. Never has she felt home so close as when she hooks one leg over Clarke’s and grinds with her, against her.

There is no shame in Lexa’s voice when she cries out. Clarke presses back against her when Lexa leans her head against her cheek and absorbs each cry and gasp and moaned word as if it were everything she ever wanted to hear.

After Lexa is spent, Clarke hooks her body around Lexa’s back and holds her close, gently nuzzling the back of her neck.

This time Lexa falls asleep immediately and, more importantly, without wriggling once.


	2. Morning

One of Lexa's favourite times is the morning. She's been ingrained from childhood to wake up with the first rays of the sun, but Clarke likes to sleep late and grumble. So Lexa finds ways to wake her up in a good mood. This morning Clarke is flat out on her stomach, sprawled out over most of the bed with her limbs askew. Smiling to herself, Lexa gently kisses up her back, lingering on each one, until Clarke rolls over and looks up at her with a sleepy grin. 

"Morning."

"Morning." Lexa flops down on the mattress next to her, one leg draped over Clarke's. She props herself up on one elbow and simply gazes at Clarke with a satisfied little quirk to the corner of her mouth. Clarke wakes up by degrees and it's always a process Lexa loves to watch.

First she blinks, just managing to focus before she closes them again with soft groan. She covers her eyes with one hand, as if to shut out the light for one more minute. She turns her head to one side and then stretches, starting at her feet and waking each muscle in a wave that travels steadily up her body. When it reaches her arms they reach up above her head and the wave becomes a whole body arch, before she falls back down with a thump and finally opens her eyes for good.

Clarke wriggles down into the covers again with a pleased little smirk and Lexa follows, nuzzling against her shoulder. Both of Clarke's arms wrap around Lexa to hold her lightly but firmly, and Lexa thinks she's never been happier.

"How long have you been awake?" Clarke murmurs against her hair.

"Since sun-rise."

Clarke turns her head to look out the window at the fully risen sun streaming in to the room, then back down at Lexa's naked form under the blankets.

"Not long, then?" She teases, getting a playful slap on her arm in retaliation.

"I found things to keep me busy."

"Without getting out of bed?"

"I watched you sleep," Lexa replies simply, bringing her fingers up to lightly stroke Clarke's cheek. "You talk and move sometimes. When you dream."

Clarke turns and presses her lips to the top of Lexa's forehead, trying not to let the intense vulnerability in Lexa's voice break the soft happiness of the morning. As if to cover the moment, Lexa tilts her head up to meet Clarke's mouth and they kiss languidly.

Each knows the other has nightmares. 

Lexa's are quiet. Often she will not even come close to waking, just whimpering quietly to herself. Soon Clarke found that she would calm if she took Lexa's hand, letting her squeeze it.

Clarke's are louder. Sometimes she'll kick out or thrash and Lexa has to grab her and shake her awake. Clarke cries herself to sleep in Lexa's arms.

Neither wants to mention it in the morning.


	3. Dress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm too fluffy today somebody stop me. As always thoughts are welcome here or on tumblr @flyingfanaticfics.

One of Clarke's favourite times is when Lexa has to dress in her full regalia. At first she'd stay in her chair and watch the handmaidens work while Lexa stood straight and tall and still. One day, she asks one of them to show her the intricate braiding pattern. 

Every evening she insists on practicing until Lexa turns and kisses Clarke, murmuring, "Perfect, ai niron." 

After that moment, Lexa lets no-one else touch her hair.

Clarke takes longer than the handmaidens that have been braiding all their lives, but Lexa really does not mind. Standing perfectly still with her arms hanging by her side, she watches Clarke move around gathering up the the brush and ties in to a single pile. At first Clarke uses her fingers instead of the brush to tease apart the larger tangles, placing the tips at Lexa's temples to pull the entire mass back. The firm pressure on her scalp feels so calming Lexa can't help but close her eyes with a soft groan.

"That's not going to get you dressed any time soon," Clarke chuckles in her ear.

Emitting a soft huff Lexa shakes out her hair and lifts her chin, eyes determinedly focused on a spot in the distance. This move only makes Clarke more amused, but she holds in her laughter and ducks to hide her smile, covering by picking up the brush.

With an affected air of professionalism Clarke begins to brush through Lexa's hair, enjoying the way it yields to the softest touch yet falls back with deceptive weight. She always takes her time, running the bristles through her hair long after even the smallest knot is gone. Just like small dimples at the small of Lexa's back, her hair is a physical reminder of those parts of her that normally remain secret.

Eventually Clarke drops the brush and begins to section off Lexa's hair, making sure to run her fingertips against her scalp in the same way that had caused a reaction before. With a clenched jaw Lexa resists for the first few braids, but soon each stroke is pulling a quiet hum of pleasure from her. By unspoken agreement Clarke continues to work as if she doesn't hear or see, so she can continue watching Lexa's face smoothed of worry and lost in sensation. Clarke ties off the end of the last braid and then steps back to admire her handiwork.

Lexa runs her hand critically over the braids, checking each one. When she nods at Clarke her eyes crinkle with satisfaction.

Coming to stand in front of Lexa, Clarke peers at one apparently wayward strand behind her ear and sets about fixing it, lips pursing in concentration. Lexa is staring at her face, relaxation melting though her from the confident touch to the point that she doesn't even realise she's making any noise until Clarke stops, looking at her with raised eyebrows.

She could swear not a single thought passes through her head in the moment between looking in to Clarke's eyes and kissing her.

Loving little touches quickly turn passionate and neither of them pauses to contemplate the fact that they are supposed to be getting Lexa dressed before Clarke's backing towards the bed and leading Lexa after her with a combination of tugs at her clothes and Lexa's almost hypnotised need to follow Clarke's lips. There's still a suspension of belief in the front of Lexa's mind each time she and Clarke kiss that has never quite faded but just changed, from stunned incredulity to quiet amazement.

In fact she's so lost in the simple pleasure of kissing Clarke that she doesn't realise when they hit the bed and when Clarke pulls her down on top of her Lexa stumbles with a surprised grunt. Clarke laughs briefly then reaches for her shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it away. The remainder of their clothes are shed in a giggling, rolling wrestling match. Between playful pushing and half-earnest attempts at pinning each other they each melt and shift under the other until Lexa ends up between her legs with Clarke holding tightly on to her head, her grip turning to rough yanking as the flicks of Lexa's tongue spreads up along the nerves in an increasingly sharp and overwhelming shocks until she collapses and releases the broken plaits.

After a light kiss to each hip Lexa slides back up Clarke's body and settles, half on top of her and half on the mattress.

Clarke plays with the messed tresses that used to be neat, tight braids.

"I think I'm going to have to re-do those."

Lexa laughs; "We have time."


End file.
